


beautiful

by kirakirakirari



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Nyotalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3246200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakirakirari/pseuds/kirakirakirari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she's like what you can never believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> I break them.

The first time he sees her, he thinks of an angel in light blonde hair and lilac-coloured eyes, ( _'your glasses really need fixing',_ England says, ' _She's Russia, she might look pretty, but she'll poison you.' – 'Don't worry, Iggy, I'm the hero, I'll be alright.)_ But he knows it's a lie. She looks at him, hands ghost over his cheeks and says something about 'young and lively', and all America can feel is the coldness in her hands.

He's almost forgotten how to breathe until England yells at him to start the meeting.

xxx

The second time he sees her, she looks at him with mild interest, as if she forgot who he is before flashing him a fake smile. She's faster than he can remember, takes off his glasses and twirls it around her hands.

"Give my Texas back." He says, and he hopes it comes out strongly.

"Oh." She sighs wistfully, "You have such clear blue eyes." She hands his glasses back eventually, and America thinks of the cold again.

_She's like what you can never believe._

xxx

The third time he sees her, it's after the dissolution of Soviet Unions. He doesn't want everything to happen like that, because the cold he feels when she's around is getting worse and worse and god, the winter is nothing in comparison. She holds her head high and proud and walks in that gorgeous walk of hers, the walk that he has no right to look at – damn, he's the hero, he isn't supposed to feel like it.

"What're you doing here?" She asks, voice cold and distant.

"I…" The words are failing him there, so instead of saying anything, he gives her a banquet of roses, which she immediately rips to shreds and tosses to the ground.

(Later, he wonders, would it be different if he brought sunflowers?)

"Save your pity, America."

_She's never look more beautiful than when she's tearing him down._

xxx

The forth times he sees her, he really really sees  _her,_ the poisonously and destructively angelic girl presses her lips to his own.

The victory tastes bitter and her lips taste like ashes.

It might be love, he thinks, but it's too late.

( _She laughs and says: "America, you win.")_


End file.
